A New Arrangement
by XxxAnimaniacxxX
Summary: James is used to standard daily routines. This is completely thrown off course when he stumbles upon one of his town's greatest mysteries, Kendall Knight, lying in the woods alone. T for references. For winterschild11!


**This took me way too long to write...but anyway, this is for winterschild11. She's great :P hope you like it!**

James Diamond loved Sherwood. He'd been born there, and raised there. He'd only ever left the state of Minnesota twice; once when he was ten, and once when he was thirteen. Both had been vacations with his mom and dad and aunt and uncle, and three cousins. He was an only child, but unlike most he'd never really desired brothers and sisters. He liked being his parents' little treasure, why bother denying it? He liked undivided attention. He had to be their favourite child. As his friend Logan often pointed out, that meant he also had to be their least favourite child. He always chose to ignore that.

His dad was the sheriff of the area, and his mom worked as an elementary school teacher. He was a good student in high school. He had time to play sports, ice hockey being his favourite, as well as keep his grades at generally a B average and be a member of a few clubs. He went to a music club after school on Mondays, and played hockey on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. His worst subject was math, but the lowest he'd ever achieved in that was a C-. He often achieved As in English, French, music and US history. He had great friends, a great family, a dog named Falco whom he treated as his baby, and mostly, he couldn't have been happier. He even had a girlfriend or boyfriend every now and then. Plus, his parents had accepted his bisexuality with open arms.

Sherwood was the kind of town where the worst crime ever committed was a more violent break in than normal. Maybe an armed robbery or two. Perhaps, the very occasional murder. But James couldn't remember the last time a murder had been committed. Only suicides and accidents, and those were quite rare. His town was like a little fairytale place, with the occasional quick cloud of darkness.

Then a much darker one descended when Kendall Knight disappeared.

It was coming towards the end of James' junior year when it happened. He was seventeen. He was doing his algebra homework one night, in front of the television while the recorded hockey game was playing. Doing math homework at midnight with school the next day probably wasn't advisable, but he'd been busy with practice and his parents didn't mind. Then suddenly his dad got a call to report to the police station immediately. Jennifer and Will Knight had called it in, urgently wailing that their son had been taken. They'd heard noises and gone into his room to find the place a mess, the window open and the sound of screeching tyres as a car sped away. He had to have been taken. Normally it would have to be at least twenty four hours since the disappearance before a missing persons report could be filed. Thing was, this didn't look like a kid sneaking out for fun. And Kendall Knight, according to those who knew him, wasn't that type.

Kendall was fifteen when he vanished. James didn't know him very well. He knew he played hockey, though they often didn't see each other at practice since they were two grades apart. He had a few friends, he wandered around the halls, things like that. He didn't really see him until he was gone. And suddenly he started to notice all these details. Their lockers had actually been close together; about a month after Kendall disappeared, people began hanging up cards and putting flowers by his locker. Kendall had worn beanies a lot. He played guitar. He was always smiling.

Kendall disappearing was by far the weirdest thing that had ever happened in his lifetime. Nobody had ever just vanished like that. Any lead the police had — the tyre marks, the ladder outside the window, any fingerprints — all led to dead ends. He remembered his father going crazy trying to solve the case. He stayed up late, gorging himself on coffee and stressing himself out. If the situation wasn't so awful, he would've made jokes to him that the Kendall Knight case was the cause of him losing his hair.

A day or two after James' high school graduation, he learned that the Knight family had put their house up for sale and left town; the two parents and the younger sister, Katie. He supposed living in the place where their son had vanished from was too painful for them, he understood that. He would probably do the same thing. He, however, was happy in Sherwood.

_**—Five Years Later—**_

"Morning, you two!" James called, walking into the café. This had been his place of work for four years now. He worked seven days a week most weeks, in different shifts. Tomorrow would be his first full day off in a month. Some days he worked from when it opened at 8am to when it closed at 6pm. Other days he worked a morning to afternoon shift or afternoon to evening. Either way, he always came home with heavy legs but a happy heart. He loved his job; it fulfilled him.

At some point during senior year, James' mom had gone through a series of operations after discovering what looked like nothing more than a kidney infection, but of course turned out to be something much more serious. The whole procedure had drained her of her energy— and drained them of half of James' college savings. Then there'd been that storm . . . basically he'd ended up with next to no money left to continue school. It should've been devastating for him, but in reality it was a relief. He wasn't 100% sure of what he wanted to do anyway, this just lifted a whole lot of pressure off him. However, there was the matter of finding a job. At some point, miraculously, James and his two best friends from high school, Carlos Garcia and Logan Mitchell, happened upon an empty unit in town just waiting to be filled. And so they filled it, each pitching in with different skills and ambitions.

James, Carlos and Logan all shared ownership of the café, which they decided to name 'Stella's' after Carlos' beloved family dog who passed away only days after they'd signed the papers for the lot. James' own old family dog didn't have a name with the same suitability. Carlos had Sydney now and was happy with her. And he had his girlfriend Stephanie, who he also enjoyed having in his life. Logan, although he was bi like James, also had a girlfriend; Camille. She was taking a languages course in the local university, while also taking drama as an extra module in the hopes of one day becoming an actress. She was a sweet, but very loud girl. They'd gone to school together. Stephanie had moved here to spend more time with her father, having lost her mom the year before and deciding that now was as good a time as any to repair her bond with him.

Carlos hadn't been able to afford college, and Logan was currently attending, only working part-time at the café. His ultimate dream was to be a doctor, and Carlos and James supported him all the way. The three of them all shared the work; they baked, ordered in goods, worked with the finances, the whole thing was a shared job. They worked well together and although it should've been extremely difficult for them, their place was very popular. The most popular in Sherwood, in fact.

"Hey, look who's here!" James exclaimed as he spotted a young boy with tufts of dark hair sitting at one of the tables. He was Logan's eight-year-old nephew, Ned. "My little man, what's up?"

"Shh!" Ned hissed, eyes focusing on his paper. He'd written things all over it in his illegible scrawl, and was carrying a magnifying glass. "I'm working on a case, it's super duper important!"

"Sure it is," Logan chuckled, rolling his eyes as he started placing cupcakes and his mom's legendary snickerdoodles on the shelves while Carlos placed little jugs of milk and pots of sugar packets on all the tables. "You think you're the next Sherlock Holmes, don't you kid?"

"I'll solve every unsolved case, you'll see!" Ned declared indignantly. His table was covered in sheet after sheet of paper, and an open box of crayons. "_Alllll_ of them!"

Logan rolled his eyes before unwrapping his box of sandwich ingredients from the refrigerator in the back. "He's staying with us until two, Lucy had a ton of shopping to do and a dentist appointment to get to afterwards."

"It's no problem, he can lure customers in with these dimples," James teased, prodding Ned's cheek. He let out an unwilling giggle. "So what case are you working on right now, Sherlock? The 1998 bank robbery? The mass break-ins of Minneapolis? That poaching scandal from Duluth?"

"No," Ned scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Those are boring."

"The Duluth case is not boring!" Carlos protested, prodding his shoulder as he stood by their table with the last sugar pot in his hand. "They found about ten different species of exotic pets waiting to be sold! They had a Bengal tiger and everything!"

"Bangal shmengal," Ned said, waving his magnifying glass dismissively. "I'm working on the Kendall Knight case!"

Instantly the three men sobered up. "That's um, an interesting choice," James said at last, thinking of his father hunched over his desk with three empty coffee mugs beside him, tugging his hair out strand by strand. "Why'd you pick that one?"

"Isn't it obvious? Everybody gets found if they go missing in Sherwood! Most people in this whole side of the state get found if they go missing, but not him." Ned pushed his glasses further up his nose. "I'm gonna find out what happened to him!"

"Well, you know all the police force in this town, and half of it from this side of the state have tried that," Logan told him. "And they couldn't find any lead."

"Yeah, well, Grandpa always says that kids think better than grown ups, because they're open to all possibilities," Ned said snootily, folding his arms. "So there."

"Well then," James took a seat at the table. "Let's hear your theories."

"I have two," Ned announced proudly. "One is that he ran away."

"The police discounted that," Logan replied instantly.

"They only said that because it looks like he was taken! That doesn't mean he was, he could've run away with someone. Maybe he wanted to leave Sherwood."

"It can get pretty boring here," Carlos chuckled. "Alright, what's the second theory?"

"This is my favourite one." Ned cleared his throat, voice lowering dramatically, "The parents did it."

For once, none of them had an instant retort. They all took a few seconds to consider it. "No, I'm sure the police discounted that too," Carlos said. "They must have, parents are nearly always one of the first suspects."

"But they called the police on their own child being missing," James pointed out uncertainly.

"They all do!" Ned told him.

"Well, why do you think they would get rid of their own kid then, Sherlock?" Logan asked, already seeming bored with this conversation as he got up to work on setting up the food again.

"I haven't figured that out yet," Ned shrugged. "They have another kid. Maybe they like her more."

"Maybe they sent him away so they'd only have to pay one college tuition," Carlos chuckled, getting up too and ruffling Ned's hair. "So, little man, want me to make you a bagel?"

"Cheese and bacon, please!" Ned chirped, beaming. "Can I have apple juice too?"

"Coming right up! Hey James, mind flipping the sign around?"

James nodded, walking to the glass front door and flipping the paper sign around, declaring Stella's open for business.

_Strange theory,_ he mused to himself as he retreated behind the counter for the day's work. _But no._ He remembered now. His dad had told him about the interrogation and evidence gathered against the parents. There was nothing there. Kendall had just vanished, like a ghost.

"So, Ned," he spoke up at last. "If Kendall Knight ran away, where do you think he went?"

"Dunno." Ned shrugged. "Probably left the country. But not on a plane because they'd probably be looking out for him. Maybe Canada or Mexico!"

"Yeah," James sighed, putting on his best smile as one of their regulars walked through the door for their usual breakfast sandwich and scone. "Maybe."

"Maybe he's partying because he's five years free from Sherwood," Carlos said absent-mindedly, smiling at their customer before moving over to prepare his order. "Today's his Memorial Day."

Right. James had forgotten that. Even though he'd seen the flower bouquets placed outside the Knights' old house — an elderly couple lived there now — it hadn't registered with him what they were for. Kendall's birthday every year was newly christened the day they all mourned his disappearance, even the people who didn't know him. Funny how small towns were like that.

James went through the usual day of work, cleaning off tables and serving drinks and making sandwiches, watching Ned hastily pack up all his detective work and leave with Lucy at two, like Logan said he would. He was such a funny little kid.

He kept his eyes firmly off the Knights' house when he passed it on his way home, but still out of the corner of his eye there was that little glimpse of colour. He glanced at it reluctantly and was surprised to see the woman who lived there now walking out to the sidewalk with a little watering can, sprinkling some water over the bouquets outside her front gate. He headed on and arrived home, parking in the driveway and hopping out.

Like Carlos, he now had his own dog too; Fox the little Klee Kai. He was boisterous but very cute, and about three years old. James took him for a quick walk up and down the neighbourhood in the morning before work, and then for a longer walk in the evening. It gave him a routine, which he liked. Routine gave him security.

He unlocked the door and walked in, instantly hearing Fox barking as he ran out of the kitchen to greet him. "Hey, boy!" he said happily, shutting the door and scratching behind Fox's ears. "All ready for your walk?"

The little dog's wild behaviours suggested that he was. James chuckled. "Okay, let me just take a quick bathroom break and grab my jacket."

He did, and returned downstairs to see Fox running around in circles and still barking like crazy. He was a bit peckish, but he figured he could make some dinner after his walk. Fox wouldn't let him eat in peace anyway.

"Alright alright, calm down," James laughed at the yipping little dog at his feet, who was leaping up and scratching at his shirt on the way down. "I've got your leash here." He clipped it to Fox's collar and grabbed his keys, and the two left the house. He locked the door after him and headed off down the sidewalk, the dog tugging desperately at his leash. They only walked for about five minutes before he turned down a smaller path across a green, through some trees and into the woods. This was his favourite place to walk Fox; it was peaceful, and he felt as though the world slowed down once he was within the safety of the trees. Though of course, he'd never dream of staying after dark. He wasn't stupid.

The two walked along the path, which existed only because so many people had taken that same route before him. Hikers, other dog walkers, or just children exploring this strange new world. James usually walked the path for about twenty minutes, before they would turn back and return home, effectively making a walk which lasted over half an hour, and was normally more than enough exercise for Fox until the next morning. He always stopped at the same place; a fork in the path. He knew the left branch led to a pond, and the other led to a clearing people often camped out in. Fox rarely got to see these sites.

At last, they reached the fork. "Okay Fox, home time," James announced, attempting to tug him back. "Come on."

But Fox resisted, tugging against James and yapping excitedly towards his left; in the direction of the pond, but he ignored the path and tried to bound off into the grass. "Fox!" James groaned as his arm was yanked forward. He pulled his dog back. "No!"

But Fox kept at it. James sighed. The last time James had been taken off on a chase like this, he'd seen a deer. The time before that, it'd been a raccoon that wasn't too happy with him. He sighed again. Well, what could go wrong this time? He could just hope it wasn't anything too big and, well . . . carnivorous. "Alright then, dumb dog. Lead the way."

The two walked off into the wilder, less explored area. He kept his eyes and ears open at all times, gripping Fox's leash firmly. The dog wasn't barking anymore, thank goodness, but he kept pulling. He occasionally stopped and sniffed the odd tree trunk or patch of shrubbery, but he had one direction he wanted to move in. James was happy to let him, he had nothing better to be doing.

Then he tripped over a tree root and went sprawling onto the ground whut a grunt, the leash slipping from his hand. Fox vanished in an instant. "Fox, no!" James groaned, scrambling to his feet and taking off after him. "Fox, where are you?"

He looked around hopelessly, stumbling a little as his feet tangled in the plants. Shit, shit shit, what if he went down a burrow or something? What if his leash got caught and he choked?! What if—

He suddenly spotted the end of the bright red leash, lying behind a cluster of thorny bushes. "Oh, thank god," he sighed, moving closer. As more of the leash came into view, he caught sight of something white. Frowning, he moved closer, behind the bushes. He gasped, stumbling back a couple of steps because his first thought was, _It's a body._

But he saw it move, and suddenly realised that there was a person lying in the woods and he'd just found them and what was he supposed to do now?! But the body stopped becoming an it, and became a person. It became a he.

This young man, from where he was standing and watching him, looked to be at least a couple of inches shorter than he was. He was curled up in the foetal position, naked, with Fox licking at his face and pawing at his chest, yipping. His skin was paler than James had ever seen, but in many places it was darkened purple and blue with ugly bruises, and streaked red with cuts. His face had little scratches on it as did his arms, probably from the thorns. His eyelids fluttered, face scrunched into a frown. Finally he opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was Fox. Then he looked up and saw James, and bolted into a sitting position, eyes wide.

"No no it's okay!" James protested immediately as the young man scuttled backwards, wincing as he crashed into some thorns before changing direction and trying to escape, but he was surrounded. He looked as though he were about to either faint, or leap up and claw James' face off. He thought wildly for a solution, before finding one and dropping to his knees, so they were at the same height. "It's okay," he said in a quieter tone. This was generally the way one soothed an animal, but he had no better ideas. Now at this angle, and considerably closer to this man, he could see him much better. He was very thin. Not just scrawny, but horribly and unhealthily thin. James could see his ribcage and harshly jutted out hips and shoulder blades, just in the position he was sitting in. His hair had been styled at some point, James could see that, but it had grown too long and was a sandy brown colour. It was greasy and had dirt in it.

"Here," James said in the same soothing tone, taking off his black coat and handing it to him. "You look freezing and it's not a warm evening." The man didn't take it, so he placed it beside him, and sat back and waited. Fox moved towards him and he scratched behind his ears fondly, picking him up in his arms. "Good boy, Fox," he said fondly. He wondered if maybe having the dog here could help him gain the man's trust. Puppies were great like that.

The man looked at Fox, then at James, and then back again. His eyes were green, wide and he looked to be on the edge of tears. Shivering, he picked up James' coat and sat up. He slid his arms through it; it was obviously painful for him with his injured arms. He buttoned it up with shaky fingers, unable to tie some of them and curling his hands into fists. "Do you want some help?" James asked gently, putting Fox down on the ground and scooting forward. At first the man shied away from him, but when James caught hold of his jacket he just sat there and let him finish buttoning it up. Because of their size difference it slipped to his thighs and covered him up.

"Here." Grabbing Fox's leash in one hand, James stood up again and extended a hand to the stranger. "If you come with me I'll get you something to eat and some clothes and you can tell me who to call, okay?"

The man hesitated for a second, before giving a brief nod of his head and taking James' hand. James heaved him to his feet, and he stumbled a little before gaining his balance. "Okay, good," James smiled. "Follow me."

He led Fox back the way they had come, the dog often darting back towards the stranger. James glanced back at him occasionally, but he could tell by the light footsteps that he was following the whole time, if very slowly. As they returned to the usual well worn path, and began to near the edge of the woods, the footsteps suddenly quickened and a hand sharply grabbed James' arm. He turned around to see the man clutching his arm and shaking his head quickly, glancing at the light through the trees with fearful eyes. "You don't wanna go out by the houses, huh?" James enquired, glancing in that direction too. "You know there are houses . . .?"

The man stepped backwards, hand moving to tug the jacket down, though it made no improvement. "Okay, that's okay," James said half to himself, glancing to his right instead. "Well, we could go in through my backyard, nobody would see you then. I can give you a boost over the fence." When the stranger nodded, James smiled. "Okay, cool. Follow me, again."

When they reached the rows of wooden fences separating the houses and the trees, James counted the gardens and kept an eye out for his own. He spotted the kennel and chew toys scattered around and stopped. "Okay. Do you want me to give you a boost over the fence?"

He looked as though he didn't want James touching him at all, but clearly couldn't make it over the fence himself. So he sighed and nodded, moving to grip the fence with both hands. James held his tiny waist and the man jumped, balanced at first, but in the end toppling over the fence and landing in a heap on the grass with a whimper. James grimaced, looking over at him as he got up on his knees. "Sorry about that. If I drop Fox down to you can you catch him?" The stranger nodded, and James lifted the dog over the fence before letting him go. He landed on the man's lap and he clung to him immediately, squishing him a little and making him squeak. James leaped over the fence with ease, helping the stranger to his feet again. "I'll take you inside now."

The two walked across the garden and James quickly unlocked the back door, letting the man scamper inside first as though he were afraid the neighbours might have seen him. James shut the door and locked it again. "Okay, well." He looked around awkwardly, wondering what to do next. His nose wrinkled slightly as he finally noticed, in this otherwise clean space, that the guy smelled really awful. "How about a shower first?"

Again, he nodded, and James led him upstairs. He grabbed a towel for him from the bathroom cupboard. "Okay, soap and shampoo and conditioner are there, deodorant is here . . . and you, um, you know how to use a shower, right?"

The man scoffed, nodding and James blushed. "Right, well, you can never be sure when you find random strangers in the woods, can you? It feels like a Tarzan moment. You speak about as much as he did."

The man bit his lip, turning away towards the shower. Then he looked over his shoulder, frowning as his hands moved to the buttons on the coat. "Right, sorry, I'm leaving!" James said quickly, backing out of the bathroom and shutting the door. He gave a loud sigh, smacking the palm of his hand over his face. God, he was an idiot. He heard the shower being turned on and headed down to his room, wondering if he could find the stranger some clothes to wear. The situation was so unbelievably bizarre. Damn his overly curious dog and his overly generous nature.

James rooted through his drawer, digging to the very bottom until he finally found that pair of sweatpants that didn't fit him anymore. He wasn't so lucky in the T-shirt department, but chose his Minnesota Wild jersey, hoping that would be comfortable. He found a pair of socks for the man's feet if he wanted them — and some boxers, choosing to ignore that it felt kind of awkward — and walked down the hallway. He knocked on the bathroom door and heard the spray of the shower stop instantly. "I've got some clothes for you to wear," he called through the door. "I'm just gonna open it a little and slide them in, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, he did so, making sure the door was only open the bare minimum so he didn't freak out. "Come downstairs when you're dressed and I'll give you something to eat," he added, before shutting the door again. He heard the shower being turned back on and left the hallway, going downstairs to the kitchen.

As he searched through the fridge and contemplated what to give him, he was suddenly struck with the image of that time he found the kitten in his backyard when he was thirteen. He'd given it some food but the wild thing hadn't eaten in so long that it was too rich for her and half of it came back up again. Grimacing slightly, he pushed some of his more exotic ingredients aside and decided to just cook some chicken. He busied himself with pan frying it and boiling up some potatoes and packeted peas and carrot sticks. Fox lay on his bed in the corner, occasionally sniffing the air in interest but other than that, taking no notice of him. Then he suddenly started barking happily and and scampering towards the door. James turned around to see the stranger walk in, shakily and cautiously. But he gave a watery smile and leaned down to let Fox tentatively. Then he spoke, forcing the sound out a little as he stuttered hoarsely, "Fffox."

James nodded, smiling a little numbly because he seriously couldn't believe this was happening to him. "Yeah, Fox, that's right. Here, sit down." He pulled a chair out and the man sat down, and he hurried to get him a glass of water. "I'm making you something to eat right now, it should be ready in a few minutes," he said busily as he gave it one more check over, before sitting down across from the man. "You must be starving, huh? You look like you haven't eaten in about a year, kinda."

The man just nodded, hands clasped together so tightly on the table that his knuckles were even whiter than before. "Where did you came from?" James asked him quietly. The stranger just stared at him blankly, though he was sure that he knew full well what he was saying. Perhaps he really had been traumatised into dumbness. Or else he just didn't want to, or didn't know how, to talk about it. "Okay, let's start with an easier question. Your name?"

The man's hair was actually much blonder than James thought; a kind of soft honey blond. Now that it was clean, through it still hung wet in his face, it looked a lot better. But he really needed a haircut. The man frowned to himself, stuttering out a K or C sound a few times, before scowling and shaking his head and giving up. James asked him again. He swallowed and whispered, "B-bitch."

And for a second, James thought he was insulting him and was about to become very offended. Then it hit him right in the face. "Oh. That's your . . ."

"Bitch," he repeated, but with more anger in his voice. It sounded like he was impersonating someone.

"Okay, o-okay, oh god . . . um, how old are you?"

This time, 'Bitch' (though James really didn't want to call him that) clearly understood what he was saying. He was even thinking about the answer, but he looked hopelessly lost. James quickly took out his phone. "Today is second of November, 2014."

"Twenty."

The answer was so certain that James was surprised, but pleasantly so. "Huh. I'm twenty two. You look a little younger, though maybe it's because you're so thin—"

"Birthday."

You . . .?" James glanced at the date on his phone again. "Today is your birthday?" Why was that date so familiar . . .

He nodded, and James' eyes widened when he saw the tiniest trace of a smile grow on his face. He smiled back nervously. "Well, happy birthday."

The man smiled a little wider, cheeks pink. Well, pinkish. He was still very pale. James went to check on the chicken and saw that it was cooked. He dished it onto two plates with the potatoes and vegetables. "The food is ready."

He grabbed two forks and knives and placed those on the table too, sitting down again. Instantly the blond man grabbed his plate and yanked it forward so hard the food almost toppled off, before grabbing one of the little potatoes and shoving it into his mouth. "Hey, slow down, it's hot!" James exclaimed, handing him his glass of water as the man winced at the hot food in his mouth. "You're like a kid . . . or just someone who's really starving . . ." He sighed, chewing on his own food slowly. "The last time I saw someone burn their mouth like that was when Carlos and I — he's my friend — we got takeaway pasta for our friend Logan's nephew Ned and he almost burned his tongue off. He's eight years old, really cute, wants to be a—"

_Wait_. He stopped, eyes widening. _Oh my god. Oh. My. Fuck, no, it couldn't be—_

_"Maybe he's partying because he's five years free from Sherwood. Today's his Memorial Day."_

"Kendall?" he asked cautiously, not very surprised when it came out as a whisper. He didn't know what he hoped the answer would be. "Kendall Knight?"

'Bitch' stopped gobbling down his food and stared at him. The seconds ticked by painfully slowly. Then he nodded. "K-Kendall. Me."

"Shit." James clapped a hand to his mouth, suddenly feeling a bit queasy. A kidnap victim was sitting right in his kitchen as he thought these jumbled thoughts. He had to call his dad, he had to call the police, or an ambulance—

Kendall went back to eating his food, slower this time. A few peas toppled off his fork and onto the table. He sighed mournfully, lip trembling slightly as he grabbed one, crushing it between his fingers in anger. Whatever had happened to him . . . he suddenly wondered if handing him to the authorities would make it worse.

_No, don't be ridiculous James. He needs to go back to his family._

_But he won't get to see them until he's been interrogated. He can't handle that, he can't even speak more than two words at a time. He's still scared of me, I'm sure of it. He's certainly scared of something, constantly looking out the window—_

_Of course he is, he's a kidnap victim, he needs professional help!_

_They won't understand him._

_And you do?_

_I can't send him away. I can't_. If people found out he'd been hiding Kendall away, he was sure he'd be arrested. But he couldn't stop string at how Kendall tried to feed Fox some of his carrot sticks, pouting when he only sniffed or licked them cautiously, and then eating them himself. Gross.

"Kendall," James said at last. "Look, I have two options."

Kendall looked up at him, biting his lip and waiting.

"I can call the police, and tell them I found you." He sighed. "Or you can stay here until you're . . . well, a bit better, and then I can call. It's your choice."

Kendall ate more of his chicken, seeming to not care at all about the struggle James was going through right now. Then he reached down to the floor and picked Fox up, cuddling him in his lap and looking at James through his lashes. Then he reached up and tapped his forefinger off the table, twice.

"Well," James said, smiling grimly. "I guess that settles it then."

When Kendall finished his dinner, he whined and held his plate up for more food. James managed to stand his ground for about half an hour, sure it wouldn't be a good idea to feed him too much at once. But then he thought about how unbearably hungry he must feel and he had to cave, making Kendall a grilled cheese sandwich and giving him a glass of milk. Again, he polished them off in seconds, smiling contentedly and beaming at James as though he'd just been given the most wonderful gift. Though after this long time of probably being fed next to nothing, maybe it was. James couldn't help but smile back. He usually watched television in the evenings and had been planning to finish re-watching 'Taken'. Now, however, he saw it as a terrible idea and rooted around for his Friends boxset instead. Kendall's face lit up immediately when he put it on, and at one point James glanced at him and saw him weakly humming along to the opening sequence. He giggled adorably along with the canned laughter, sitting on the couch with his legs crossed and Fox on his lap. He seemed to have taken a real shining to him.

At about eleven, James switched off the TV and began to lock up, switching on his burglar alarm. "I'll show you where the spare bedroom is, okay Kendall?"

Kendall nodded and got up, following him around as he put Fox in the kitchen and switched off all the downstairs lights, before walking up the stairs. James went to his bathroom cabinet and retrieved one of the spare toothbrushes he kept in there, just in case Fox chewed his up again, as he had twice before. "Here. And the toothpaste is there. Your room is that one." He pointed to the door. "There's a lamp in there and a dresser and that's about it. And a bed, obviously. You can open the window if you want, the alarm won't go off."

Kendall nodded, biting his lip. James got him some pyjamas and bade him goodnight, before going into his own room. He let out a long breath to relax himself once he had the door closed. Well, what a day this turned out to be.

James slipped out of his jeans and his t-shirt, switching it for his wife beater and kicking off his socks. He slipped down to the bathroom to brush his teeth, before returning to his bedroom and switching off the light, lying down in bed. He'd always felt like things like this didn't really happen outside of stories. And yet here he was, with a kidnap victim in his house, traumatised to the point where he couldn't even speak properly. How did he end up in this mess?

Somehow, the thought of handing Kendall over to the police made his chest ache. It must have been because the poor guy was so scared of everything. They'd only ask him questions, they wouldn't understand. He needed help.

His door opened suddenly and he sat up, gasping in surprise. He saw it was Kendall, standing there in borrowed pyjamas, hand squeezing the door handle tightly. "Oh, hi. Do you need something?"

Kendall held the door handle and stepped further into the room, mouth opening and shutting, then he did it again. "I . . . uh, I . . ." His cheeks were very red, and when James looked closer at him, he suddenly noticed the faint quivering of his pyjama pants; his knees were shaking.

"Are you scared?" James asked him. "Is that the problem?"

Kendall nodded, head hanging shamefully as he bit his lip hard.

"Hey, it's okay. You can sleep in here." _Shit, what am I doing?_ "Come on."

Kendall shut the door halfway, having turned the light on in the hallway, and hurried over to the bed. "You don't like the dark either, uh?" James commented quietly as Kendall slipped into bed beside him, curled up under the blanket with only his head visible. "No big deal. Goodnight."

Kendall smiled sweetly, mumbling with some difficulty, "Night," before shutting his eyes and cuddling into the mattress. Within less than a minute, he was sound asleep. James smiled up himself and closed his eyes too, letting himself drift away.

He just hoped he was doing the right thing.

* * *

When he woke up the next morning, before he even opened his eyes, he felt a heavy weight around his waist and found that he couldn't move. He opened his eyes and squeaked with surprise. At some point in the night, Kendall had moved closer to him and was now curled around him like a monkey. His legs were around James' legs, his arms around his waist, his head on his chest. James squirmed feebly and sighed. He had to pee. He reached behind him cautiously and pried Kendall's hands off his sides, before doing the same with his legs. Then he slipped out of the bed and went to the bathroom. When he came back, Kendall was still asleep, snoring softly.

James walked downstairs to feed Fox, filling the barking dog's bowl with dog food. "Shush, you'll wake him up," he scolded. "He looks like he could do with some sleep." He grabbed some eggs and bacon and fetched his frying pan. He was going to do his best to help Kendall put some weight on, and the best way to do that was big meals. Though of course, the nutrients helped too. He found some fruit yogurt in the fridge, and orange juice. He could probably do with going shopping today. But he had something else in mind first.

When Kendall appeared in the kitchen, walking softly and cautiously as ever, James gave him his breakfast and watched him wolf it down, thankful he'd cooked it early enough that it was already cool. He gave him some yogurt and juice, feeling like a baffled babysitter as he handed Kendall some tissue to wipe his mouth afterwards. "I'm going to see my parents today," James told him. "After I take Fox for a walk. Then I'm going to do some grocery shopping. I'll be leaving you alone here."

Kendall's eyes widened in horror.

"You'll be okay," James said quickly. "You can just, I don't know, find something to do. Read or watch TV or listen to a CD? You'll find something. And Fox will be here with you."

"Fox."

"Yeah, Fox. I'll try not to take too long."

Kendall nodded, frowning to himself. "Okay."

"Okay." James grinned. "Good. Glad we've settled it."

James took Fox for a quick walk up and down the neighbourhood. When he came back Kendall had dressed in his sweatpants and Minnesota Wild jersey again, wearing the socks he'd been given and was sitting in the living room, flicking through a Man Fashion magazine. But he was clearly only looking at the pictures. "Okay, I'm leaving," James announced, grabbing everything he needed. "Fox doesn't need anything, he can go out into the backyard through the doggy door if he wants to."

Kendall nodded, not even looking up. James left the house, taking a deep breath as he locked the door after him. The sky was dark and cloudy as he made his way to the car. He shivered at the cooling breeze before getting in and driving away.

He started to rifle through the possible excuses he could have for going into his dad's study. He kept all his books in there, and his computer, maybe something like that would work. He started to panic as he drew closer to the house, parking and sprinting up and ringing the doorbell before he could change his mind. His mother answered the door and squealed, hugging him. "Jamie, sweetheart! What are you doing here?"

"I was going to do some grocery shopping, thought I'd stop by on my way here," James replied shakily. "Can I come in? I'm getting wet . . ."

"Oh, the rain, of course, come in!"

James hurried inside. "What are you up to, Mom?"

"Working on the living room shelf. Again." She sighed. 'It's a real pain."

"Yeah, um . . . so where's Dad? I was only on my way here and realised I wanted to borrow, um, some books from him."

"He's in his study, probably. Go on in and see him."

James nodded and walked down the hallway to where the study was. It was a room filled with shelves, and a desk by the window. His father was sitting at it, and looked up in delight when he saw him. He was returned now, and still looked like such a hard-working man. "James, nice to see you!" He hurried over and gave him a hug. "I didn't know you were coming."

"It was an impulse decision. Um, listen, Dad, I actually came over to borrow a book series from you if that's cool?"

"Oh, sure. Which ones?" He indicated the vast shelves behind him.

Crap. "Sherlock Holmes," he blurted out, the first thing that came to his head. "Don't you have them?"

"I do, they're somewhere around here . . ." As he examined the shelf, the rain shattered against the window and the wind howled.

"There's terrible wind and rain out there right now, I wanted to get out for a walk," his dad sighed mournfully. "Still, at least there's no thunder."

"It's loud though," James commented. "So I heard Mom is trying to put the living room self back up, it fell again . . ."

"Oh jeez—"

"Jerry!" a voice trilled from the living room. "I need your tools and your assistance!"

"Just a second!" he called back, going to the cupboard and opening it, grabbing his tool box. "I'll get that series for you as soon as I get back, okay James? Or you can look for it yourself."

"I've got it Dad, thanks!" James called after him as he left the room, pulling the door almost totally shut. Instantly he was diving onto the shelf with the case files. Jerry Diamond had always been an organised man, and kept a copy of his files at home and at work, in case anything struck him and he could look over them at any time. James was thankful for that now as he rooted through them. They were in boxes by year, and then sorted in alphabetical order. He grabbed 2009, hurriedly flipping through it until he found the foe which said, in clear handwriting 'Kendall Knight, April 27th 2009'. The day he went missing. He stuffed the file into his bag and slipped the box back into place. Then he stood up to look at the bookshelves for that series he supposedly wanted.

He found them just as his father came back into the room, stuffing them into his bag with the file. "Thanks, Dad, I got them!" He gave him a brief hug. "I'm sorry my visit's so brief but I've got a lot to do today . . ."

"Think nothing of it, just call again soon!"

"I will!" James called, before sprinting back down to his car, grumbling about the rain and wind and throwing the bag in. Okay, he was in the clear. Now the easier part; buying food for Kendall.

It certainly was easy. He bought oven pizza, vegetables, fruit, salad leaves, fries, chocolate, a box of cupcakes, bread, and more. It was enough to refill his kitchen, and Kendall would surely like most of it. He could get his health and weight back up in no time. The weather was worse when he drove home. He turned the windscreen wipers on and squinted out at the grey world outside, finally managing to locate his home. He picked up his bags when he parked, holding the one with the file the tightest.

He got out of his car and hurried up the path to the front door, tugging his jacket tighter around him. He unlocked the front door and walked inside. The first thing he saw was an open book in the middle of the floor. He turned into the living room and gasped. The books and DVDs were all over the floor, the shelf knocked over entirely. His vase lay smashed on the floor, the flowers scattered, the floor wet. Fox ran to him from the couch, barking and jumping up to greet him. James barely patred him on the head before saying, "Hey buddy, where's Kendall?"

Fox yapped, bouncing around the mess chirpily, and miraculously not cutting his paws on the glass. Then he moved over to the table with James' computer on it. James couldn't believe he didn't spot him before, cowering under there covered in the blanket he'd given him before he left. "Kendall," he called, walking over and folding his arms. "Come out from under there."

A pair of scared green eyes blinked up at him. "Come out," he repeated sternly, hand on the table. "Right now."

Kendall crawled out, blanket draped over his back. He looked like he was just going to stay sitting on the floor, but James grabbed his arm and tugged him to his feet. He whimpered and clutched the blanket. "What've you done?!" James demanded, waving a hand arund the room. "Why would you do this, I've been taking care of you and this is how you thank me? You broke my vase, it might be girly but you know what, it was my first housewarming gift and it still meant a lot to me and you broke it! You got my books all wet, you've made a huge mess and there's glass all over the floor! What do you have to say for yourself?"

Kendall looked around, mouth trembling. One hand folded over his chest, he pressed the other against his cheek. James didn't think he was going to say anything. Then he mumbled, "Sorry."

James sighed. "Well—"

"I didn't mean to." Kendall pressed his lips together, sniffling. "I got scared, I didn't mean to knock the shelf over. I don't like storms. I hate them."

"Oh." James' eyes widened a little and he cleared his throat. "Um, that's the most I've ever heard you speak."

But Kendall wasn't done. "They used to make me stand outside in it," Kendall whimpered. "Because they knew."

"Who? The people who called you Bitch?"

Kendall flinched at the name, nodding and beginning to tremble, hands moving to cover his face. "No, no it's okay," James said quickly, taking his hands. "Don't cry, okay? Don't worry, the storm's over now and I'm gonna clean this mess up, alright?"

"I want to help."

"No, just let me take care of it. Here, you can hold on to Fox." James picked up the little Klee Kai and handed him to Kendall. "I don't want him stepping on the glass."

Kendall nodded, smiling wider than James had ever seen (and it was still hardly a smile at all) and sat on the couch, crossing his legs and cuddling Fox on his lap. The puppy nuzzled against his chest and licked at his neck, unable to reach his face.

James got to work, straightening the shelf up and putting it back in its place. Turning the heater on to get rid of the chill he'd left in the house, he left his books open on top of it, grabbing the dustpan and brush and cleaning the glass of his vase away and throwing it out. He dried the water off the floor and finally, gave it a quick sweep with the vacuum cleaner. He held the flowers in his hand, wondering what to do with them. In the end he decided to just leave them on top of the shelf. They were fake anyway; he'd find something else to put them in.

"I've gotta feed Fox now," James said to Kendall, who nodded and let the dog go. Walking into the kitchen he heard the quick and eager patter of paws and the quieter, slower footfall of bare human feet. James poured Fox's usual helping into his shiny blue bowl and the dog dived on it immediately. To James' slight surprise, Kendall sat down cross-legged on the floor beside him, petting him a little but trying not to distract him from his food.

"Oh, well, you have fun there then," James said with a little smile. "I'll make us food in a bit, alright?"

Kendall nodded. James unpacked his groceries and headed off into the living room, finishing putting the room back into place by picking a stray cushion or two off the floor and putting them back where they belonged.

Although the thunder and roaring wind had drifted away, the rain continued to pour outside. Sometimes James liked the sound of the rain, and found it very soothing. But at times, especially now after seeing how much it spooked Kendall, he didn't enjoy it very much. Alone in the living room, he headed over to his polished wooden piano and sat down. It had been a twenty first birthday present from his parents. Needless to say, he'd been gobsmacked and totally over the moon when he saw it. He loved to play, and had been since elementary school. His aunt shared the same interest and often taught him nifty little tricks. Since then, if he found a song he liked, heard it on the radio or anywhere else, he would take a few hours and learn how to play it, and it would stick in his mind. Even so, he had piles and piles of sheet music on top of it, along with his little metronome that he rarely used anymore.

Glancing over his shoulder at the rain outside, he turned back and began to play. He smiled to himself, amazed at how much peace it brought him. This was one of Logan's favourite songs, and his too. He'd heard about ten different renditions of it so far. "High dive into frozen waves," he sang softly, loving the lyrical ballad more and more by the second. "Where the past comes back to love. Fight fear for the selfish pain, it was worth it every time . . . Hold still right before we—"

He started and his fingers struck a raw note as he felt a body brush off his back. He turned around to see Kendall standing behind him, blanket still wrapped around his body. He smiled a little awkwardly, managing to squirm his way onto the seat beside James, forcing him to scoot over, not that the blond took up too much room. "Sorry," Kendall said softly. "I-I heard you play . . ."

"Oh." James smiled. "I play if I wanna make some noise that I actually like. Not to sound arrogant or anything. Did you like it?"

Kendall nodded, biting his lip. "It's nice. Play more."

"Okay, um . . ." His mind quickly traced itself back to where he'd left off. "Well, this song is kind of new so you probably won't know it. But it's nice. Uh, here I go . . ." He began to play again, and sing again, though a bit quieter this time, because the sudden realisation he was being listened to made him feel a little self-conscious. "A clock ticks til it breaks your glass, and I drown in you again."

Kendall listened intently.

"Cause you are the piece of me I wish I didn't need," James sang, getting more into it, as always, when he hit the chorus, "chasing, relentlessly . . . still fight and I don't know why. If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy.."

He felt a gentle hand coil around his arm and his cheeks flushed. "I-If our love's insanity, why are you my clarity.."

"You sing nice."

James chuckled, so beyond flustered at this point. "Thanks."

Kendall beamed at him, dimples showing in his cheeks. Such an expression of joy on his face was what made James realise he really was doing a good thing here. "I'll make dinner," he said when he heard Kendall's stomach rumble. "Oven pizza, maybe?"

Kendall's eyes lit up and he nodded eagerly.

James cooked two pizzas and cut them into slices, putting them in the middle of the table and popping down two more plates. As they ate, James' cheeks flushed suddenly as he watched Kendall lick and suck some melted cheese off his fingers (and then felt like a pervert for it when Kendall later plucked the pepperoni off his pizza and childishly made a face with them, grinning proudly). He put the dishes away afterwards. Kendall picked one up as a way of offering his assistance, but James just shook his head and finished the job. "Maybe tomorrow you can help," he said. He chuckled. "But you've broken too many things today."

Kendall blushed. James just smiled and, in a sudden moment of courage, ruffled his hair playfully. Kendall stiffened up in fear at first, but by the time James' hand left his hair, he was content.

The two watched another three episodes of Friends before they went to bed. While Kendall was in the bathroom, James took his case file from his bag and hid it inside the bedside locker, intending to take a look once Kendall had fallen asleep. He wouldn't have time to look in the morning before work and he wouldn't bring it to Stella's in a million years. He took his turn in the bathroom, coming back to see Kendall sitting up in bed, hands on his lap and clenching the comforter. "You look a little tense," he commented, getting into bed beside him. "Are you alright?"

"I just . . ." He bit his lip. "Got lonely." His head bowed in shame.

"Well, I'm here now, aren't I? Come here." James turned off the lamp and lay down facing him, Kendall's face still visible in the light from the hallway. "I woke up this morning and you were clinging to me. Did you do that when I fell asleep?"

Kendall's silence and averted eyes gave him his answer. "I don't mind it . . . if you want to you can."

Kendall's arms grasped him instantly, the blond's head pressed up against his shoulder as he gave a happy sigh, shutting his eyes. James settled and shut his eyes too, reasonably comfortable. "Goodnight, Kendall."

"Night . . ." he slurred, already gone.

James listened carefully to the pattern of Kendall's breathing, noticing when his hold on him loosened slightly. He opened his eyes and slipped away from Kendall ever so slightly, letting his arms drop on the mattress. He slept on soundly, mouth slightly parted, breath heavy and slow.

Sitting up in bed at last, James cautiously reached over towards his bedside locker. He slipped it open cautiously and withdrew the case file from his faher's house. Kendall slept soundly beside him and he sat back against the headboard, opening the file. The light in the hallway was still on, and the door half open, so although it was difficult, he could make some things out. He took the little torch out from his locker drawer and switched it on for good measure. The first thing he read was his dad's name and old ID number. The date and time of the incident, he knew all that information already. The other officers who arrived, irrelevant.

_Kendall Knight, born November 2nd 1994. Son of Jennifer Knight and William Knight, younger daughter Katie Knight born June 23rd 2000._

Huh. So she should be fourteen now, interesting. He kept reading, moving onto suspects. They were surprisingly and worryingly random; a man who'd worked on the Knights' garden once in 2003, deceased at the time of the incident; biology teacher at school who a distant friend claimed Kendall had trouble with (James remembered that man being pulled out of school); the parents, of course. Some strangers with no relationship whatsoever with to the family, one imprisoned but later reluctantly released due to a lack of evidence.

And what evidence was there? No fingerprints in the bedroom that were out of place. Only fingerprints on the ladder at his window belonged to the old gardener and Kendall's father, and some from his mother. It was their own ladder, so it meant nothing. There were some tyre skid marks outside the house, but they didn't last and it lead to nowhere. They couldn't track the car. Kendall had just vanished into thin air.

And yet he could never have been very far away. James found him in the woods still in the area of their tiny little town, and yet nobody had ever been able to find him? Perhaps they'd been thinking a little too much outside the box. He must have been somewhere in the woods the whole time, locked up in a house perhaps. Or at least maybe on the other side of the woods, whatever was over there. He'd never walked that far and he'd never intended to. This whole situation, it was just bizarre. A true cold case.

He glanced down at the sleeping blond beside him, wondering what possible horrors he could have encountered wherever he was. Physical abuse, most definitely, from what he'd heard and seen from him. He wondered why he'd been taken; his family had never been asked for ransom. For anything, really. And if it was some sort of highly run human trafficking operation, surely like Ned had said, he would be far away, in another state or even another country.

The answer to Sherwood's greatest mystery lay beside him, but he was afraid to ask.

The second time Kendall was frightened by a storm, he had been in James' home for a about two weeks. He'd gained a lot of weight, he was still slim, but James could see clearly that it was in a healthy way. His bones no longer stuck out of his skin. And he could eat anything James offered him. He wasn't much more developed in his vocabulary; he did speak a little more, but in the same basic, childish short sentences. And some words he tried to remember, only getting frustrated and upset when he couldn't.

The storm came in at around 9:30 in the evening. It brought lightning, thunder, rain, and some sudden changes with it. Kendall heard the first rumble of thunder and whimpered, curling up in a ball on the couch and shutting his eyes. Fox began to bark, as he often did. James hurried over and tried to lift Kendall into a sitting position. He jumped like he'd been burned and stared at James with wide eyes, beginning to breathe faster.

"Shh, it's okay, clam down," James tried to say soothingly, resorting to tugging Kendall up a little forcefully. The blond immediately dived at him, coiling around his body and burying his face in his chest.

"You won't make me go out?"

"Of corse not."

Kendall nodded. A tear still slid down his cheek at the next crash of thunder, but at least James could hold him still and ensure he didn't damage anything, including himself.

"Maybe we should just go to bed," he said at last. "We can just lie down until you're ready to go to sleep, how does that sound?"

Kendall nodded silently. "Okay, good. I'm going to go put Fox to bed. Can you stay sitting where you are?" James carefully pried Kendall off his body and stood up, the blond swiping and trying tug him back. "Stay right there, don't move," he repeated, before calling Fox and hurrying into the kitchen. The dog hopped into his bed obediently and James gave him a brief pat on the head, murmured, "Goodnight, good boy," before getting up and turning off the kitchen light, shutting the door.

"Okay, I'm back," he announced, holding his hand out to Kendall. Kendall jumped up immediately and clutched onto him, and the two walked up the stairs. "Change into your pyjamas while I brush my teeth and pee," he said to him. "Nothing will happen to you."

"Promise?"

James gulped. "Yeah, I promise. Go on, go change."

Kendall nodded obediently and went to fetch his clothes, trembling. James finished up in the bathroom and stripped back to his boxers and put on his bed t-shirt, sending Kendall off into the bathroom. Kendall insisted he stand outside the bathroom door, so he did. Then they both headed off into James' room.

"See, all okay," James said with a comforting smile, switching off the main light and leaving the bedside lamp on. "We can just chill until you're sleepy, yeah?"

"James?"

"Yes?"

"Do you like me?"

Well, that hit him like a rock. "W-what?"

"Do you like me?" Kendall repeated, little lip pointing as he hung on to James' arm. "We're together all the time . . ."

"Well, yeah, but . . ."

"We sleep together."

"We literally sleep together," James stammered worriedly. This was not part of the plan.

"You let me hold onto you all the time," Kendall persisted, cheeks flushed as squeezed James' arm tighter as if to prove his point. "See?"

"Yeah, b-but . . ." _Oh god, I wish he'd stop looking at me like that. Those eyes are going to be the death of me . . ._ "L-look, Kendall, it can't happen."

"Why not?"

His tone was so simple, so curious that for a moment he wondered Yeah, why not? But of course his mind reminded him of exactly why not only a second later. "Kendall, you were kidnapped from your home. You have to go back to yor family at some point."

"So?"

"So, this can't work out . ."

"Why not?"

James gave a frustrated groan. "Because it can't! When you get better you'll be leaving here!"

Kendall frowned, seeming to be taking James' words into consideration. His hands slid down James' arm to grip his hand. His hands were soft and a bit shaky as the world outside continued to quake under the storm. At last he blinked a few times in what looked like confusion and looked up at James, "But we don't have to say bye."

While James was thinking about that, Kendall squeezed James' hand harder before leaning in and kissing him on the lips. It was a bit sloppy, a little clumsy. James doubted he'd kissed many people in his life. He couldn't bring himself to kiss back, and he couldn't understand why. He did want to; his feelings towards Kendall were wild and unexplainable but he couldn't deny them. However, he also felt he could never follow through with them. He was just setting them both up for heartbreak, he was sure of it. And even still . . . he was twenty two, an adult, and he hadn't been with anybody in a while. He had his own needs, and as selfish as it sounded, he doubted Kendall could fulfill those needs, not like this. And he felt it would be too difficult to be with him in every way, but never sexually.

Kendall kept kissing him, arms winding around his waist and tugging him in so their bodies pressed together. James let it happen, the blond not seeming too bothered about James not returning the gesture. James himself felt quite bothered. Guilty and afraid.

Another rumble of thunder startled Kendall away from James. He still held onto him tightly, head leaning back as he said softly, a little dimpled smile appearing, "You make me feel better."

"I'm glad," he replied honestly. He tried to treat the situation as mundane and not worrisome, not even a little. _If only I could feel better._

He went to work a little earlier than usual the next morning. Kendall had gone to kiss him goodbye, seeming unfazed when James turned his head slightly and offered his cheek instead. Then he walked Fox quickly before speeding off to Stella's, unlocking the door and walking in to begin setting up. Carlos arrived fifteen minutes after he did, and Logan twenty. They all worked together, throwing the occasional playful comment around, until they were ready to open. But James needed to get this out before customers began pouring in.

"Hey, guys," James said suddenly. "My cousin Rachael called me last night . . ." He briefly felt guilty about dragging the seventeen year old into this unawares, but he obviously couldn't spill the real situation. "She kept asking me advice on this problem and yet the whole time she wouldn't tell me what it was. Guess she thought I might tell her parents. But she got me thinking, I got pretty stuck actually . . ."

"And you're looking for some input?" Logan enquired. He shrugged breezily, sitting at a table and leaning back casually. "Alright, lay it on me. Well, us."

Carlos playfully threw himself down onto Logan's lap as he listened. Logan huffed.

"Well," James began nervously, clearing his Thiar. "All she really said to me was that she was in this situation where she has to choose between what's right and what she feels is the right thing to do . . . even though doing what she feels right could get her in a lot of trouble. And she said she doesn't mean, like, grounding. Real trouble."

"Rachael?" Logan frowned. "That's so strange, she's always seemed like a good kid."

"But think about it Loges, he said she's doing what she feels is right," Carlos reminded him. "We don't know the specifics of the situation."

"That's why I found it difficult," James said to them quickly to draw their attention back to him. "What do you guys think?"

"I think that what she thinks is right, whatever that is, is the better thing to do," Carlos said at last, tapping his chin thoughtfully with his forefinger. "I think that instinct and emotions are really powerful things, and you should trust them. It might feel wrong, and scary, but not doing so might make you regret it, you know?"

"I hate to say it, but I kind of agree," Logan said, earning awestruck expressions from his friends. "I mean, you know I'm not one for rebelling against anything, but that stuff about instincts and emotions is true. Tell her that."

"Yeah," James said softly, half to himself. "I will."

It was so simple for them. If they knew the details, would they say the same thing? He couldn't imagine Logan praising him for what he'd done. Carlos, maybe. But he had a strong suspicion they would both be a little cautious either way. He couldn't tell them yet.

James had started giving Kendall things to do at home while he was out. The blond wasn't very into reading the books James had, but he did like to give it a try at times. James left movies for him to watch, or TV boxsets. He'd give him the many old boxes of games and activities he had from when he was a kid. One thing Kendall seemed to enjoy was making things. Lego towers one day, beaded bracelets another. James had heard somewhere it was good therapy for post traumatic stress or something. Either way it seemed to be working. Kendall was engrossed in his latest fixation, art, when James returned home that evening.

"Hey," James greeted, walking into the living room. "I'm back! I brought you a snack from the coffee shop where I work, I thought you'd like it . . ."

Kendall looked up from his place on the floor. He was lying on his belly, legs bent at the knee and feet crossed in the air, drawings and art supplies scattered on the floor over a carpet of old newspaper. Fox hopped from the couch over to James, yapping in delight. James patted his head quickly. "I know little bud, almost time for your walk. I'll take you in a second." He walked over to Kendall, glancing down at the pictures he'd been doing. Many of them were sloppy crayon drawings — of Fox, of trees, of flowers — and some were painted. Those were much messier, much more frenzied. A lot of red had been used. "Those are still wet," he commented as he bent down, pointing to the paintings before picking up the crayon drawings. "But these are nice. I can hang them on the wall, yeah?"

Kendall nodded, beaming proudly. James stuck the pictures up on the living room wall, taking the paintings and putting them on the radiator to dry. "I trust that one, you don't want to come out with me," James said, holding his forefinger out. Kendall nodded. "And two," his middle finger was added, "that you can clean that up while I'm gone."

Another nod, a more determinded one this time. "Okay, good." He clipped Fox's leash on, before holding out the brown paper bag. "Come get your snack, it's an apple and cinnamon muffin, courtesy of Carlos."

Kendall hopped up and pranced over to him, beaming and taking it. "Thank you." Then he pecked James on the lips. James squeaked, blushing hard. Kendall pecked him again. "See you," he said chirpily, cheeks flushed. "Don't get lost."

"I'm only going down the street . . ."

"Still." Kendall pouted, kissing again before James could do or say anything in defence. He left the house as quickly as he could without being too obvious. Not that Kendall would pick up on anything of the sort.

When he returned from his walk with Fox, the living room was spotless and Kendall was sitting there patiently, hands folded on his lap. He gave both Fox and James a hug and a kiss before following James to the kitchen and sitting with him as he cooked dinner.

The week went on in a similar fashion. Lots of kisses, lots of hugs, lots of cuddling. James would admit without question that he loved the cuddling, and the hugs. And maye the kisses. But the kisses were what terrified him. Cuddling and hugging was just a thing he could do with any friend, with anyone he was comforting. He still hadn't gotten any closer to finding out what happened to Kendall. And the blond was tempting him more and more by the day. He wanted both things desperately, but was reluctant to grasp either in the many chances he had. He knew he'd have to just do it already, and not think about it. But it was easier said than done.

He felt a little like a teenager at times. _I like Kendall. But I don't think it'll work out. I can't tell him my feeeelliinngssss._ It was pathetically truly.

For someone with a mentality distinctly less mature than his, Kendall had no trouble with it whatsoever.

"You're so great," Kendall cooed, pecking him all over his face, no caution or fear about him. This was the only time when he acted like this. If he could be brave, surely James could be too? If Kendall could deal with being James, James should be able to do the same.

"You are too," James stuttered, hands awkwardly holding Kendall's waist as the blond peppered little kisses over his face, down to his neck and back again. He wondered if Kendall knew that what he was doing could be interpreted as totally not innocent, and more than simply pure affection.

"You're really shy," Kendall commented idly, ignoring his facial expressions and nervous mumbling as he played with the collar of his t-shirt. "Like a bunny." He laughed. "You're a bunny."

"Y-yeah, a bunny. Haha." He cleared his throat, hands sort of pressing against Kendall's stomach to subtlety push him back. It didn't do much good. "So if I'm a bunny, what are you?"

Kendall shrugged, biting his lip before tilting his head and saying, "A fox. Not your fox. A fox fox. They eat chickens and bunnies."

"Don't bite me," James blurted out before he knew what he was saying. He groaned. Then he muffled Kendall's mad laughter by leaning in and kissing him.

It only lasted a second. He pulled back with heaving breath, eying Kendall's stunned expression. He couldn't help grinning. Finally he was the one lost for words, the one gawking like a dumbstruck idiot.

As much as James liked watching that expression, it didn't take long for it to get a little old.

So James kissed Kendall again, watching as the blond's face lit up in a huge smile. This was the first time James had made a move towards him, the first time he felt he'd shown any visible interest. Maybe Kendall had seen something he hadn't. But it was all out in the open now. And although there was still that fear in the back of his mind, he was strangely okay with that. Hey, a whole week of resisting was pretty impressive.

"You kissed me," Kendall said, giggling a little deliriously. "You kissed me first."

"Yeah, I did. I . . . I wanted to. I'm probably crazy."

"I'm crazy."

"You're just a little odd. But I like you."

"I like you m-more."

James kissed him again, unable to help himself. Kendall threw his arms around his neck and tugged him forward aggressively, their chests knocking together, the breath knocked out of him. They continued to kiss like that; just innocent kisses, over and over, maybe a little open mouth. There was nothing sexy or hungry about it. It was relaxed, well, on his end. Kendall was kissing him with more fire, more desperation, still holding him close and trying to pull him even closer. But that didn't surprise James. And he liked this feeling of being needed by him.

He wanted to hold onto it for as long as possible.

Being in this relationship with Kendall gave him more courage. It was so easy to just be open about his feelings, and let Kendall return them freely. It was easier to have the blond cuddle him at night and finally hold him back. They didn't have sex, of course; James hadn't been expecting that, and he had no idea when it would happen. If it would, as there was no way of telling how long this relationship would last. Plus he had no idea how Kendall felt about sex. Which brought him back to anything that might have influenced his thoughts on the subject, which brought him back to what had happened those five years he'd been missing.

One night, as he sat down with Kendall, Fox and two mugs of tea, he decided it was finally time. He put them down on the coffee table (Kendall was too busy cuddling/squeezing Fox to notice anyway) and cleared his throat. Just do it.

"Hey, Kendall?"

Kendall looked up , putting Fox down and turning towards him immediately, perked and attentive. "Yes?"

"A couple of weeks ago, when I left you alone for the first time, I went to my parents' house," James told him cautiously, reaching out and taking his hand, hoping it would offer him a bit of comfort in what was to come. "My dad used to be the sheriff, and he worked on your case when you went missing. I took the file because, well, I just wanted to know what happened to you. I thought it might be easier to help you if I knew what I was up against. But it didn't tell me anything, really. You just vanished."

"I vanished," Kendall repeated, a bit numbly. "Yes."

"You don't have to tell me what happened, but when you eventually leave here, you might have to . . ."

"Why?"

"So that the police can catch whoever it was that took you," James replied patiently. "You do want that, don't you?"

Kendall nodded. "Y-yes. They're bad."

"Exactly. Do you think it would be easier to tell someone else first? I just thought it might be . . ."

"I can tell you. I trust you."

"O-okay, good." James nodded. "Good." He saw suddenly terrified.

"They took me from my room," Kendall said, suddenly whispering, eyes a little wide. "I was in bed and they took me. They put me in the car."

"And you couldn't get away?"

"N-no, they put me in the . . . the . . ." Kendall started to frown, chest beginning to rise and fall more radically. "The . . ."

"The trunk?"

"Y-yeah, the trunk. I f-forgot." Kendall swallowed. "It was dark and bumpy, I didn't like it. Then they stopped and they took me out and covered my head. I couldn't see and it was hard to breathe and they kicked—" He stopped, taking a deep breath. Then another. James just squeezed his hand and listened, he feared that what he'd heard so far was only mild compared to what was to come.

"They took the thingy off my head later and I was in a room by myself. They s-said they wanted to fix me and b-break me in, and I was confused and scared and they didn't give me any food or water all the next day, they wanted me to beg but I didn't so they started hitting me—"

"Okay, it's okay," James said quickly, putting his hand on his knee and kissing his cheek. He hoped that would soothe him somewhat, and it did. "You don't have to tell me everything that happened, it was a whole five years after all."

"I-I can tell you what they did."

"And not be specific, you mean?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Just, uh . . . just stop whenever you need to."

Kendall didn't even wait for him to finish his sentence before going on, mouth and hands trembling and eyes swelling with tears. "They had a girl with them, a grown up, and th-they wanted me to do things with her but I kept telling them no and they m-made me do it because they said I should like it but I hated it, I hated her." His whole body suddenly heaved with rage, tone getting louder. "And they punished me for being damaged and not liking girls. They beat me and put me outside in thunder and whenever I t-talked they hit me, until I stopped. I had to stop."

James felt sick to the stomach at what he was hearing. Kendall had only been a teenager. But there was that one lingering issue at the back of his mind. Kendall was gay, and they knew? H hadn't known the boy in school, maybe he'd been open about his sexuality.

Suddenly Kendall was in tears. "And they tried to make me hate being with boys, they made it hurt and laughed at me when I screamed and said I deserved it, that I asked for it. But I didn't, I didn't ask! I didn't ask for anything!" He sobbed, James unable to hear it anymore and pulling him tight into his arms. As first the blond thrashed to try and get away from him, in hysterics. But the crying died down to a soft weeping as he buried his head in James's neck, soaking his skin. "I just wanted to go home," he whimpered, voice cracking, broken.

"I know," James murmured, both sorry and relieved that he had asked. "I know."

Kendall would have to go home soon. James knew that now. It was all he wanted, after all.

* * *

"Okay, here's your large hot chocolate," James said, handing the woman her takeaway cardboard cup, followed by a paper bag. "And your cinnamon slice. Thank you!"

"Thank you," the woman replied, beaming and leaving the café. As soon as the door shut behind her, Logan hopped from where he'd been cleaning the tables and switched the sign around. "There, closed. Now we can clean up in peace."

"I'll get started on the floor," James said cheerily, going and fetching his sweeping brush. "It won't take me long."

It was pitch dark outside, even though it wasn't very late just yet. James heard the faint patter of rain against the large windows and the door. Then he heard a rumble of thunder and his head snapped up. "Thunder!"

"Yeah," Carlos said slowly, staring at him strangely for a second before going back to packing away the leftover food. If it wasn't up to his selling standards for the following day, he would always take it to the homeless shelter. They loved him down there. "Just another thunderstorm, no big deal. You know they're common this time of year, why are you so surprised?"

"I-I'm not, I just . . ." He heard another rumble. "F-Fox doesn't really like thunder."

"Well, that's standard dog behaviour," Logan sad dismissively.

James cleaned the floor sloppily and hastily, tidying everything away before running to Carlos and Logan and saying urgently, "L-Look, guys, I'll stay longer next evening but I really wanna go home and check on him—"

"It's cool James, I can see you're about to break out in a cold sweat," Carlos chuckled. "I'm glad Sydney doesn't have those problems. We'll see you day after tomorrow!"

Last time Kendall had been left alone in a storm, he'd destroyed the living room and practically had a panic attack. What would happen to him now?

He drove faster than he'd ever driven before, panicking the whole time over the possibility of getting a speeding ticket. But Kendall could literally be doing anything right now. Had he locked the door? He left the back door unlocked, what about the front? The windows? Shit shit shit.

The rain splattered down violently over him when he opened the car door and leaped out, slipping on the driveway and slamming the door shut sloppily. He then remembered he'd left the keys in there and took those too, sprinting to the front door. He came to a sudden and horrified stop when he saw that it was open a crack. He opened it the rest of the way and hurried inside. The lights were still switched on. The kitchen door was closed and he could hear Fox barking and whimpering from behind it.

A picture once hanging in the wall now lay on the floor. The living room was a mess. When he opened the kitchen door, he saw two upturned chairs and that Fox's water bowl had been knocked over. The dog bounded towards him, rubbing against his legs as he continued his frantic search around the kitchen.

"Kendall," he called, looking out at the dark backyard, before checking the rest of downstairs, under every price of furniture he could've hidden under. "Kendall!" he shouted, sprinting up the stairs and checking his room, every little corner. Then he checked the spare rooms, and then the bathroom. Then he checked everything again, frantically calling his name all the way. At last he opened the front door, stepping out into the thunder, wind and rain. A bolt of lightning flashed before his eyes as he called out once more, desperately. He was met with no answer.

"Kendall, oh god," he choked, running back inside. "I've gotta find him, Fox. He's probably scared to death. Why am I talking to you?!"

Fox seemed more than happy to accompany him on this walk, which went in the direction he wasn't used to travelling; back along the houses and towards town. "He wouldn't go into the woods, would he? Why would he wanna go there," James was mumbling to himself. "Wouldn't make any sense, he wouldn't go back to where he was taken, unless something clicked in him, but surely that's gone now . . ."

Wandering down the main street of town with Fox on his red leash, he desperately kept his eyes open for any sign of Kendall, even though realistically he could've run in the opposite direction. He had no way of knowing where he had gone, or how long he'd been gone, and it was killing him. Was he hurt? He was definitely scared. He could've hurt himself in his hysteria . . .

He suddenly saw Kendall's face and stopped, gasping. He saw it ten times over. He saw a television store window.

What . . .?

"The search is over for Sherwood's mystery case Kendall Knight! Sources say he was found and brought into custody just minutes ago. He was found by local elderly resident Claire Danford, who we've learned now lives in the old Knight house, which is where she found Kendall. He's believed to be in reasonable physical condition, but now the question is: where has he been all these years?"

James gaped at the television screen. He'd gone home. Maybe wondering if his family was still there. It was the first time he'd shown any indication of thinking about them. Perhaps recovery had been more on his mind, James had no idea what went on in there.

He was probably in the hospital by now. Policemen were probably showing up to talk to him. They would be calling his family, his childhood friends would be wailing with relief that the nightmare was over. Would Kendall mention him? If he did, he was bound to get a visit from the cops very soon.

But he couldn't bring himself to care.

He felt as though it was all for nothing.

James slumped down onto the couch, Fox hopping up and sitting beside him. He seemed puzzled, perhaps because something that had become a part of their lives for the past few weeks, was now gone. "I miss him," James sighed, lightly stroking Fox's head. "And he's only been gone a day. It's just not the same, huh?"

The loneliness was catching up to him.

Everyone in town was still buzzing over Kendall's Knight's mysterious reappearance. Every little detail was being shared; the parents had arrived, they were staying in this hotel, look here's a picture of them driving their rental car, here's Katie, here's a picture of them all together, here's a picture of how Kendall looks now, isn't he pretty, he's amazingly healthy, blah blah blah.

James had lived alone since he was nineteen years old. He'd bought Fox a little later, but he'd never had a human housemate, unless a friend or family member or a lover (rarely) was just sleeping over for the night. He'd lived alone for three years. But this was the first time in those three years, that he'd ever felt lonely.

Somehow he just felt that Kendall belonged with him. But he needed to get over it.

"Well," James sighed at last. "I guess it can't hurt to see what they're doing now. What he's doing now, huh boy?" And he picked up the remote and turned the TV on, going to his primary news channel. The rest of the state's stories had been lost in this case. Nothing else mattered until the Knights returned to Wisconsin, and the only people who'd remember them were the residents of Sherwood who still slept with double locks on their doors and windows.

"We're so grateful to Claire Danford, who found our son and returned him to us," Jennifer Knight told him from inside the television, a wide smile on her face. "Our family is complete again and we couldn't be happier."

James frowned to himself, leaning forward in his seat. Something was off . . .

"The last few years have been torture for us," his father continued, arm around his wide. Then James saw the hand on her shoulder straining, clenching, the veins bulging. "All we've wondered every day is where our child could be. We have lots to catch up on."

James' eyes narrowed.

Then the camera moved to Katie, where she was snivelling and trembling. "I-I was only nine when my brother disappeared," she said shakily, looking at the floor nervously and clenching her fists around her tissue. "So I was really little and I just kept wondering why he would leave me . . . I still want to know why! Why anyone would do that to him. He's still the same person, I know it."

He saw the genuine emotion in her face, heard it in her voice.

"I-I know they hurt him . . . they damaged him. But he's still my brother. And I want to heal him."

Damaged. James frowned. The same thing Kendall said his kidnappers had called him. Was it just a coincidence? But what could he have been damaged by . . .?

He rewound the news broadcast and watched the parents again. He stared down every little detail of their interview. The wide smiles, the dry eyes. Clenching hands and ordinary clothes and matching crosses around their necks. Perfectly styled hair. Katie was a mess. He noticed her own little cross, dangling from her hands as though if she held it, it might bring her help. Real comfort. It was barely noticeable.

Something, was so, so off. And suddenly he was very suspicious. Or maybe he had been so all along, and it just hadn't quite hit him until now.

He'd seen more emotion in his own mother's eyes every time he did the dishes without being asked.

"Fox, stay," James said firmly, getting off the couch and running to grab his jacket and his keys. Fox did as he asked. He took a brief second to switch off the television before hurrying out of the house and into his car. The broadcast had said where the Knights were staying. He just had to go there and get the room number. Easy. Then he could talk to Kendall and explain his theory to him . . . He hoped.

He pulled into the parking lot and got out, going straight into the hotel lobby. There were two people at the desk. He went to the one closest. "Hi!" he said, beaming. "I'm here to see the Knights but I don't know their room number . . ."

The man eyed him doubtfully, before picking up the phone on his desk. "Tell Kendall," James said to him quickly, "that his friend James is here."

The man did, seeming satisfied, and hung up saying, "Room 203."

"Thanks." James walked to the elevator and rode it up to the second floor. It only took him a minute to get to 203, and he rapped briskly on the door.

Kendall opened it immediately. His family were behind him. He smiled. "Hello." He then stepped forward and shut the hotel door behind him. Instantly his expression changed.

"James, hi!" Kendall squealed, lunging forward and hugging him, pecking him on the lips. "I'm happy to see you."

"I can see that," James said, chuckling nervously. "So, er . . . did you tell the police about me?"

Kendall shook his head quickly. "No. I thought you might get in trouble, I said I came from the woods."

"That's good . . . what are you doing now?"

"I'm going to be with my family!"

"Your parents want to take you back to where they moved?"

Kendall nodded, shaking in excitement. "We're going on a plane later."

"How much later?"

"Dunno. I think tomorrow in the afternoon. Not today, that's why we're in the room, see?" He pointed back towards the hotel room door behind him.

"Right, yeah. Listen, I want to tell you something."

"Okay."

Oh god, can I do this? As he gazed at Kendall's innocent and trusting face, he truly wondered if he could. But everything else he'd done had been so crazy and reckless. Why not a bit more? "I don't trust your parents."

Kendall frowned, lip jutting out. "Why? They're my parents."

"I-I think they had something to do with what happened to you, okay? It's this feeling I have, I was watching them on TV and they just didn't seem genuine at all. Seriously, Kendall. I'm really worried."

"N-no." Kendall's expression had changed so drastically, and knowing he was responsible gave him a nagging feeling deep in his stomach. "You're wrong!" Kendall cried, sniffling. "They love me, they wouldn't hurt me, they wouldn't!"

"Kendall, I—"

"Y-you just don't want me to leave! You want me to stay with you, but I want my family, not you!" Kendall snapped. "They don't tell me lies!"

"I'm not—"

"I don't want you! Go away!" Kendall wailed. "I just want . . . I want . . ."

"What?"

"I don't want to be this way," Kendall sniffled, drying his eyes. "I want to act like it didn't happen."

"But, it did happen," James said helplessly, trying to get him to see reason. He could see he had no chance. He'd closed off.

"No, it didn't. I don't even know you! Leave me alone!" And Kendall turned around, ran back into the hotel room, and slammed the door shut.

James stood there numbly in the hallway, unsure of what to do. He felt tears gathering in his eyes but blinked them away angrily. He would not cry here, not now. Kendall's words cut through him with a burning pain, but he cared about his safety more. He could worry about his own heart later.

James left the hotel and got back into his car, driving away as quickly as he could. He thought about going home. But he didn't. He drove to the house he no longer called home, In which was probably the only person who could and would help him. His mother let him in without question.

"Dad," he said, running into the kitchen. "Dad, I have to tell you something really important."

"Oh. Um, alright." Jerry frowned from his place at the table. "Talk to me."

He was too restless to sit down, so he just began to vent. He told him about how he and Fox found Kendall in the woods on the day of his birthday. He told him about how Kendall was traumatised into muteness, the awful nicknames, the phobias, and how Kendall had run out on him in the middle of a storm. And finally he told him about Ned, and Kendall's parents, and that plastic news report. He threw Kendall's reaction in for good measure.

"Wait." Jerry stood up, staring at James incredulously. "You mean to tell me that you were keeping a kidnap victim in your home as a secret for five weeks?"

"Well, er, yeah . . ."

"And you didn't think to call anyone?" he exploded, seeming to tower over him. "Now even me?!"

"You didn't see him!" James answered nervously, waving his hands in front of his face hoping to deter the angry man. "You didn't see what he was like, he couldn't even speak, Dad! He needed help!"

"And psychiatrists can't help with that?"

"I know it was wrong but to me it was the better thing to do, and either way it's done now and you can't change it! But there's still a chance to help him if I'm right!"

Jerry sighed. "Are you sure about this? Absolutely sure?"

"Well . . . you know." His hands clecnehed into fists. "There could be proof that they're innocent. I might be wrong. But I really don't think I am. I have a really bad feeling in my gut. Shouldn't you trust your gut?"

"I . . . yes. You should. I suppose it would make sense. All the evidence brought us to dead ends . . ."

"Exactly! Like the ladder, and how they got in, and everything, it all makes sense if you just step back and look at it. Can you at least . . . I don't know, take them in for questioning? Their flight doesn't leave until tomorrow, Kendall told me."

"I'm not the sheriff anymore, James . . ."

"You still have your badge, just ask them some questions unofficially," James pleaded. "And if they start arguing, you can call some of your friends in and they'll have to talk to you, come on!"

"Alright, alright! Go wait by my car, I'll be there in a second."

James threw him a grateful smile and ran out of the house, standing impatiently by the car and tapping his foot on the ground. It seemed as though an eternity had passed when his father finally emerged, car keys in hand. He also held what James thought looked like a large light. "What is that?"

"Oh." Jerry chuckled. "It's a siren. You know, the undercover cop cars put them on. I got one as a gift last year, probably as a joke, I don't think it's even a real one. But it works like one." And he flipped the switch. James covered his ears instantly, wincing.

"Okay, good call. Let's go."

They got in the car and drove right to the hotel, heading into the reception. It was evening now, and the reception was very quiet except for one woman sitting behind the large desk, on the computer. Jerry and James headed straight to the elevator and rode it up to the Knights' floor. "It's this room," James said as they approached, stopping and knocking on the door. There was complete silence from the other side. "They were here a while ago," James groaned, knocking again. "Maybe they're ignoring us!"

"Hmm." Jerry shrugged. "Well, if they went out somewhere or if they're ignoring us, the receptionist might now. We can go ask her."

James groaned; it was much more time consuming than just breaking the door down. But he nodded reluctantly, and the two returned to the hotel lobby. They made a beeline for the reception desk, the woman looking up at them as they stopped directly in front of her.

"Good evening, Ma'am," Jerry said politely, briefly flashing his badge to her. Her eyes landed on it before she looked back at his face. "Sorry to bother you, we're just wondering if you could call the Knight family for us? They didn't answer to our knocking."

"Hmm . . ." She frowned for a moment. "One second, I think that . . ." She typed a few letters into her computer and glanced at the screen. "Yep, the Knights checked out half an hour ago, that's why they didn't answer. They're gone."

"What? That's impossible!" James protested, catching her off guard. "Their flight isn't until tomorrow, the airport's only a couple of hours away! Why would they leave now?! Is there a checkout time?"

"No sir, we tend to be lenient with our checkout times. I was expecting them to book an extra day, since they had us arrange their flight for them and I saw it's quite far from now . . ."

"If it's not too much trouble, would you be able to give us their flight details?" Jerry persisted, starting to frown. "Do you have a copy of the booking?"

"I should do, hold on . . ." A few slow seconds later she returned, reading aloud. "Flight TB151 to Madison, gate 13, seats 14 A to C . . ."

"That's three seats!" James exploded. "Only three, they need four!"

"W-well, I think I heard them saying one of them had unfinished business here . . ."

"James." Jerry had gone very pale. "I'm calling the police, putting out a search for them. Hopefully we can track down their rental car."

The two walked away from the baffled and now worried receptionist and back out into the darkening night. James collapsed numbly into the passenger seat of the car while Jerry stood outside for a moment, talking on the phone urgently. This meant that there was a greater chance of his theory being correct. But there was no triumph in it. Only fear for the boy he'd come to love. He didn't deserve any more of this.

Suddenly Jerry opened the car door and sat back into the driver seat. "Well, you made the calls?"

"Yep, and we're going to search too," Jerry told him. "Of course, they weren't too keen on the idea at first, but Detective Wright came on the phone and he was happy to let us. Not like we could be stopped, anyway. They'll keep me up to speed, so keep my phone handy, alright?"

James nodded, taking Jerry's phone and putting it on his lap. "Thank you so much, Dad. You're a lifesaver. Possibly literally."

Jerry smiled at him a little bashfully. "Don't mention it. Let's just focus of finding him."

They took off. Jerry really only kept them driving around aimlessly until he got a call. "Hello? Yes, okay. Thanks." He hung up. "Someone spotted the car parked just outside of town, north side. Near the river."

"Okay, let's go then!" James said urgently, starting to bounce in his seat impatiently as his dad pulled over. "Dad!"

"Hold on," Jerry said impatiently, picking something up and getting out of the car, leaning up towards the roof. A second later James heard the loud blaring of the police siren and Jerry quickly got back into the car. "Now, we're getting somewhere!"

They sped off, cars clearing a way for them as they hurried to the north side of Sherwood. It may not have been a real police car, but James knew damn well that if these people knew the real reason they needed to get past, they would be more than happy to let them. Kendall had become both a gem and a tarnish of sorts in the town's history. Now he needed to be saved.

This road was deserted except for their car. Well, almost.

"There, that's the car, that's it!" James roared, pointing across his father's face.

"Yes I see, please don't make me crash, that's all we need!"

James was leaping out of the car before Jerry had even parked and sprinting towards it. He skidded on the ground and peered into the car. Katie's head popped up suddenly and she waved. "Where are they?!" James demanded to her, hands pressed up on the glass. She pointed behind him and he turned towards the trees. "Dad, she's locked in," he said, tugging at the door. "They locked her in so she couldn't follow!"

"Wouldn't surprise me," Jerry said, catching up to him and pulling out his phone. "The cops should be arriving here in a few minutes, so we— James! James, come back!"

James had taken off into the woods, stumbling over roots and shrubs and tumbling slightly on the slope. But he would save Kendall if it was the last thing he did, and he would wait for no one. There was no time.

He continued downhill, listening for any noises that would point him in the right direction. He frantically wondered how long the car had been parked there, how long they'd been gone.

Then he heard Kendall scream. It came from straight ahead. He let out a panicked breath and pushed his legs to go faster. The slope grew steeper and below him, he saw a clearing. There were three people there. He recognised them all immediately.

Kendall's father held Kendall by the arms, pushing them behind his back and keeping him restrained, his body vulnerable. Probably because he was the stronger of the two. Jennifer held a long knife in her hand. Kendall was sobbing.

First, he was too terrified to even consider taking a step further. But a second of courage was all he needed.

"Don't touch him!" James roared, thundering down the slope towards hm. "Don't you dare touch him!"

Kendall's eyes met his for a moment. He was wild with fear, thrashing and trying to kick but he was getting nowhere. Jennifer's lips curled into a snarl, gripping her knife tighter. "Why did you come after us?!" she screamed. "Nosy little faggot!"

James finally stumbled into the clearing in front of him. With no weapons or any way of calling for help. Smart move, James. Really smart move. But perhaps, as had been for the past five weeks, maybe words would be the key. "Why are you doing this?" James demanded. "He's your son!"

"It's none of your damn business," she snarled, advancing towards Kendall and sharply (no pun intended) pointing the knife towards James when he tried to take a step towards her. "You should've stayed out of our way, whoever you are."

"James," Kendall whimpered, tears dripping down his cheeks and off his chin. "H-help me . . ."

"Shut up," his father spat, hitting him hard over the head, releasing him and knocking him to the ground. Kendall lay there, dazed and trembling, too scared and maybe too confused to even try to move. James tried to go to him, but Jennifer held him off. Will kicked Kendall in the back and James punched him right in the face.

"Mom," Kendall pleaded, gazing up at her. He was totally at her mercy. He was going to get none. "M-Mommy, please . . ."

He'd been shattered. James felt himself cracking too.

But not enough to stop Jennifer mid lunge and grab her wrists, twisting them and shoving her out of the way.

She shrieked in pain. The knife fell and she ran for it. James' foot slammed down over it. He heard crashing through the trees and in the very, very distant, a faint blare of police sirens.

"Stop what you're doing, right now!"

Will and Jennifer froze like rabbits caught in headlights, eyes and heads slowly lifting to where there were four men storming down the hill towards them. He recognised one of them as his father, another as Detective Wright. The other two, he didn't know. But he was certainly glad to see them.

"Stand up, and put your hands behind your head," ones them ordered harshly, advancing with his pistol focused on them. "Don't try to run."

James watched Jennifer and Will Knight's faces crumble as they saw there was no way out. Only a few seconds later, the handcuffs came out and they were read their rights, and they were taken up the hill. A couple of officers were left standing in the clearing, one bagging the knife and the other moving towards Kendall, who was still in a heap on the ground. He looked up and saw him coming towards him with large frightened eyes. The man didn't say anything and just held a hand out towards him. Kendall weakly took it and was helped to his feet. Then he suddenly saw James, jaw dropping as though it was a shock that he was still there. "J-James!"

"Hey, Kendall," James said softly, waving and offering him a comforting smile, though he didn't know what could comfort him in a situation like this.

Kendall sniffled, stumbling towards him and throwing his arms tightly around his waist. He always was a hugger.

"I'm sorry James, I'm sorry," Kendall wept, clinging to him, knees giving way until he was only held up by his strong grip around James' waist. "I didn't mean the mean things I said, I thought you were wrong but you weren't, you were right, I—"

"It's okay, shh," James said soothingly, lifting Kendall to his feet by his arms and hugging him close. "It's totally understandable, okay? They're your parents, I wouldn't want to believe it either."

"I hate them," Kendall sniffled, face pressed against James' chest. "I don't want them."

"You don't have to be with them," James told him, as the sirens in the distance began to draw closer. "They're going to be put in prison. I don't know for how long, but they will be."

"I want to be with you. I love you."

James let out a shaky laugh, tightening his grip around the blond. "I love you too."

Kendall was about to lunge in and kiss him, probably even sloppier than usual (and wetter, as he was still crying) when Jerry appeared beside them and cleared his throat. James blushed, smiling at him nervously. "Hey, Dad."

"So, this is what you were keeping from me," Jerry said, arms folded. "Now I see your motive behind the whole thing."

"Are you mad?"

"Not any madder than I was before. But you may have to testify in court. That's not my decision."

James bit his lip. "Will I be arrested?"

"I don't think so." This was Detective Wright, who now stood beside Jerry and watched Kendall and James carefully. He smiled a little grimly, but James wasn't swayed by that. It was how he always looked. "You did keep a kidnap victim from police custody for several weeks, and that can be seen as an offence. But if Kendall gives a statement about your treatment of him, that can work in your favour. And there's also, of course, the fact that you gave us the lead we needed to finally make our arrest and solve this case. I think you'll be fine."

James let out a sigh of relief. But sadly, he wasn't quite finished. "Kendall said he wants to live with me."

"I'll see what I can do." But James had a good feeling about it. Kendall was an adult, he could theoretically do what he wanted. If he wanted James, he was bound to get him. James wouldn't complain.

Jennifer and Will Knight sang like canaries once they were taken to questioning. The chance of any immunity had them spilling out the names of Kendall's kidnappers, and the exact plan they had carried out. How they had set up the scene before the kidnappers arrived. How they had been too ashamed of Kendall's sexuality to ever let it shame their family. Apparently, sending him away to be 'fixed' was a better solution. It astounded James, the sick things drilled into people's heads, the things they would do for their image. He was happy that they had come out with this information, though. It made it easier for the cops to catch everyone else responsible. And because they'd taken it another step further, trying to murder Kendall after he was given back to them, he doubted they'd have an easy time in court. Katie went to live with her godmother, her and Kendall's aunt, just outside Sherwood. Kendall returned to be with James.

Knowing your parents could be so cruel and heartless must have been tough, he knew. Kendall, for a day or two, retreated back into what he had been when James first found him. But James was willing to keep trying. He was worth every effort he could go to. He really did love him.

It did take time, but the nightmares that left him sobbing and screaming in the dark of the night began to disappear. Kendall began to smile and laugh again. He began to take notice of James again. He held his hand and managed to walk the entire neighbourhood up and down with him. It was a few weeks later that he managed to let go. But he always came back.

He always would come back.


End file.
